


Shoots and Scores

by ZenTango



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bourbon - Freeform, F/F, Hockey, Light BDSM, Martine is a bully, Minor Violence, Root is hotter than hell, Sameen is sexy in a dark and brooding way, Sameen swears a lot, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:33:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 9,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZenTango/pseuds/ZenTango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root meet Shaw. Shaw meet Root. Let the games begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Eight minutes. That was all it took. Sameen could get all her gear, including her skates, on and laced up in exactly eight minutes and be on the ice. She usually didn't even get into the dressing room until about 10 minutes before the start of a game. That way she didn't have to listen to the pre-game bullshit and she sure didn't have to talk to anyone. That's how she liked to do things and no one else seemed to mind much.

She knew a few of the other women on her team but not too well, and that was how she liked that too. Every now and then, they'd go out for a beer after a game and someone would start chatting her up, staring into her dark eyes, asking her what she did. They'd usually tell her what they did first, which was boring as hell.

Then the prying would start.

"So, what do you do?"

"I'm a professional assassin."

That would shut them up. Or else they'd laugh. And try again.

"No, really. What do you do?"

"I'm in the numbers game."

"Oh, you're an accountant then."

"Nope. More like risk management."

Then she'd smile just a tiny bit and take another swig of her beer, slam her hand down on her car keys while scraping her chair backwards on the floor, stand up and say goodbye. Nice talking to you.

Sameen didn't really like talking, unless it was necessary. She was more into action and not wasting time with inconsequential banter. She realized some people found her aloof but she didn't really care.

Tonight she was anxious to get out on the ice and mix it up a bit. The team they were playing was known for being dirty and trash-mouthed and she couldn't wait to smack down their center Martine. The last time they'd played, Martine had slashed Sameen in the calf and got away with it. Sameen barely felt it but wanted to repay the favour post-haste.

During the warm-up, Sameen noticed her team's goaltender was not in her usual spot between the pipes, so she skated over to the bench to find out what was up.

"Where's Barb?" she asked. Her team's goaltender wasn't that good but she was rather large and could fill up most of the net. While Sameen often wished her team had a better goalie, Barb was better than nothing. And if she didn't show up soon, someone else would have to put on the pads and fill in for her. It was not going to be Sameen.

"She's sick," came the answer. "Food poisoning." Sameen clenched her jaw in irritation. "That's just great," she snapped. "We have no goalie."

She looked across the ice to where her line-mate Gina was talking to the ref. Gina soon skated over and stopped next to Sameen.

"The goalie from the game before ours has offered to fill in. She's already dressed."

"OK, good, let's get going," Sameen replied and skated off to center ice to wait for the first face-off. Sure enough, there was Martine lining up across from her, with a nasty smirk on her face. Sameen couldn't wait to wipe it off.

"Where's your fat-ass goalie?" Martine hissed acidly. "Did she choke on a cheeseburger?"

Sameen was just about to reply when she heard the gate slam shut and spied Barb's substitute heading to the net. She was tall and slender and nothing like Barb at all. She also seemed to be a pretty good skater, which was another plus. So far so good. Before turning around to face Martine again, Sameen noticed the goalie's long brown, wavy hair flying out behind her as she glided to her spot. She must have stared a little too long because the referee barked at her to turn around.

"C'mon let's go," someone else shouted and banged her stick on the ice. Soon the puck was dropped and Sameen was off, skating circles around Martine and deftly controlling the puck as she spun her way through the defence. A few seconds later the puck was in the net and Sameen's team was celebrating.

The game was rough and scrappy and Sameen was in her element. She had Martine chasing her most of the time, but managed to avoid any slashes or body checks from the taller woman. By the end of the first period, Sameen's team was up 4-0.

Sameen grabbed her water bottle and sat down on the bench as the new goalie skated over.

"Nice save," Sameen said, as the woman pulled off her mask and helmet.

"Thanks," came the reply. "You're not so bad yourself." She tossed her head, causing a cascade of hair to tumble down to her shoulders. She smiled, then tossed her head again to flip a lock of hair out of her eyes.

Sameen found herself rather disarmed by the gesture but made an effort not to smile in return. Was she just imagining it, or was that head toss meant to be flirtatious? The woman continued to look her in the eye, holding her gaze. Sameen looked away, embarrassed.

"What's your name?" the goalie asked. Her eyes were soft and brown and her voice light as air.

"Sameen," she replied, still not meeting the other woman's gaze.

"You can call me Root," the woman said before replacing her mask and skating off.

The goalie named Root made some pretty impressive saves during the remainder of the game, managing to cover both sides of the net extremely well and proving herself quite capable of keeping the other team's players out of her crease. She was quick, lithe and just as good with her stick hand as she was with her glove. Sameen watched her, trying not to show her interest, but feeling an odd kind of excitement at the display of agility. She figured Root was probably ambidextrous. She found herself thinking Root was probably pretty good at some other things too.

Sameen ended the game with four goals and two assists and Root had a shut-out. Martine was pissed.

"You got lucky," she spat as she pretended to shake Sameen's hand afterwards.

"Funny how that always happens when we play you guys," Sameen replied, before heading to the dressing room.

Once inside, Sameen stripped off her gear and walked to the shower. She walked past Root, who had her helmet, mask and gloves off but was otherwise still dressed as she sat resting on the bench. Several of the other women were sitting and standing around her, laughing and talking happily about the game. They seemed drawn to Root's easy, outgoing manner as well as her obvious physical attributes.

Sameen said nothing as she stepped into the shower, then turned and noticed Root staring directly at her. Sameen met Root's gaze, expecting her to look away, but to her shock, she moved her eyes up and down Sameen's body as though appraising a shiny new sports car.

Sameen glared back angrily. But Root seemed not to notice, calmly continuing her assessment before finally meeting the eyes of her subject with a smile and then turning away to speak with another woman at her side.

Stunned by this shameless display, Sameen pulled the curtain across the rod and turned back around. How dare she stare like that. She began soaping up, then turned around again to make sure the curtain was completely across. She suspected that if there were any gaps, Root would be trying to get a look at her ass. Who the hell did this woman think she was?

She finished her shower, grabbed her towel and walked back to where her clothes were, dressing quickly and refusing to look Root's way. Once outside the dressing room, she paused, unsure of what to do next.

Should she confront this person about her presumptuous behaviour? Sameen bit her bottom lip as she thought it over. That was probably what Root wanted. She was likely a drama queen who needed attention.

Players were spilling out of the dressing room now, talking about going to the bar for a drink. Did Sameen want to come along? She shook her head.

She waited for about 10 minutes but Root did not come out. She's still in there, probably not even undressed yet, Sameen huffed to herself. What the hell is she doing in there? How long does it take to get changed, anyway? Sameen wondered if Root was showering and washing her hair. Maybe she was blow-drying it like a princess. She huffed again. For God's sake.

Sameen marched over to the door and straight-armed it, heading inside. She was going to make sure this Root person understood her boundaries, if she had to shove them down her throat. She pictured herself grabbing Root by the neck and forcing her up against the wall, hearing the other woman's desperate gasps for air as she covered Sameen's hands with her own.

But when she got inside, there was no one left in there. Root was gone and so was her equipment bag, her stick and all her other stuff. Sameen looked around, confused. When had she left? Why didn't she see her leave? She shook her head, then grabbed her stuff and went home, thoughts of the tall, slender woman tangling together in her mind as a dull ache burned within her, somewhere lower.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gina gives the plot a little push. Thanks, Gina.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Barb was back for the next game, which Sameen's team lost. Then they had a bye and then they were up against Martine's team again the following week. Gina phoned Sameen mid-week to tell her that they'd be asking Root to fill in again, something about Barb tripping over an off-leash dog while carrying home a pizza.

Sameen drew in a breath.

"Oh, her. Um, OK."

"What's wrong?" Gina asked. "The rules allow a replacement goalie. Anyway, I thought you liked her. She's pretty good."

"Yeah, I know she is," Sameen replied. She cleared her throat slightly. "What do you know about her?"

"Root? Not much." Came the reply. "She's just a pick-up goalie. She played college hockey and had a chance for a national tryout but she messed up her knee and needed surgery, and that was it."

"But where is she from?"

"I don't know. She seems nice enough to me. She asked about you as well."

"What? What did she ask about?" Sameen felt herself go on alert.

"Oh, just the usual stuff. What was your last name. Where did you go to school. Why didn't you come out for a beer. That kind of thing."

Sameen paused again. Another breath. "Did she ask you what I did? About my work or anything?"

"Um no. She didn't. I got the impression she already knew."

Sameen froze. What the fuck. How could she know about that? It was deep undercover, top secret government ops. Root couldn't possibly know.

Now it was Gina's turn to take a deep breath.

"Look," she said. "Why don't the two of you just talk. You seem awfully interested in each other."

She sounded pissed. "Are you pissed? Sameen asked.

Gina sighed. "You are so clueless sometimes," she said.

Sameen tried to figure out what Gina's voice was conveying. She sounded kind of jealous but Sameen wasn't sure if she was jealous of Root or of her.

"I'm not interested," Sameen said.

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you were. She's cute and she's really smart too. Whatever. I'll see you on Saturday."

Gina hung up, leaving Sameen to ruminate about how to handle her next meeting with Root.

On Saturday night, she dressed quietly while the room buzzed with pre-game excitement. She saw Root pulling on her pads and her jersey but didn't acknowledge her at all until they were getting on the ice. Then, Sameen pulled the taller woman aside.

"Look, Root, if that's your real name. Stay the hell out of my way and stay outta my fucking business, OK?" She drew out the F in "fucking" longer than she usually would, just to show how serious she was.

Root smiled, frowning slightly.

"Well, OK. If that's the way you want it." She smiled again.

Sameen huffed and stepped onto the ice. Something about the way Root smiled and arched her eyebrow made Sameen feel like Root wasn't taking her warning very seriously.

That made Sameen even angrier than she already was, and she took it out on the ice, slamming several opposing players into the boards and laying an open-ice hit on Martine that sent the other woman sprawling and Sameen to the penalty box.

She spent the entire two minutes stewing and scowling at Root, who appeared not to notice.

When Sameen got back on the ice, she skated straight over to the goalie, who gave her a look of annoyance.

"They almost scored on me that time," Root scolded her. "Get your head in the game."

Sameen felt so much anger boiling up inside her, she couldn't even speak. She wanted to grab the goalie with both hands and do something really hard and urgent and violent to her, something that would make that desperate feeling go away. Something that would take the energy she felt burning inside her and slam it into Root. Hard. Something that would leave a mark.

Instead, she just stood there, glowering, apoplectic. A whistle sounded, startling Sameen and forcing her to turn around. Everyone was lining up for a faceoff inside the blue line, and Martine was already smirking.

"Why don't you take another penalty, dumb-ass?" she said under her breath as Sameen leaned forward. "You look like you need to sit down for another two minutes. You look like you're about to bust an artery."

Sameen felt like busting Martine's head, but instead she focused on the puck and won the faceoff, flipping the puck back to her winger and then drilling Martine with a shoulder check.

The puck got shot around behind the net and soon there was a battle in the corner. Root slid over to the right side of her net and Sameen headed over to pick up the pass from the defence, glancing over her shoulder to see where Martine was.

The blonde woman had regained her feet and was circling back the other way, trying to cut Sameen off and head to the net. She was moving fast and Sameen managed to deke around her but wasn't quick enough to get the puck. Martine had it. Shit.

Sameen stopped quickly and turned in time to see Martine fire the puck over Root's left shoulder. Root leaned backward and caught it in her glove, still sliding backwards to cover the net to her left side. That was when Martine slammed into Root, throwing her into the post as the two of them went down in a heap of legs, sticks and arms, sprawling into the net as it came off its moorings and slid back towards the boards.

The ref blew her whistle and Sameen pushed her way through the mob of players around the net. Martine was getting up but Root was on her back, arms flung out at her sides, unconscious.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sameen's more Clint Eastwood than Gary Cooper, but I think you can get the high plains drift.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sameen skated over to where Martine was standing with her teammates and punched her in the head. The other players then began brawling and the refs had to move in to pull them all apart. Sameen was the first to be sent off to the dressing room.

She didn't care. She told herself she would have done the same thing if Martine had knocked Barb out, but that didn't seem a likely scenario. Still, it was the principle. Protect your goalie.

Sameen peeled off her gear and pulled on her black jeans, tank top and hoodie. She rushed back out to see how Root was, but the coach told her she was already on her way to the hospital with a possible concussion. They were worried about her knee as well. Damn it.

Gritting her teeth, Sameen walked back to the dressing room. She knew she should do something. She just wasn't sure exactly what. She looked around and saw Root's clothes neatly folded on the bench, along with her leather jacket and her equipment bag. Scooping everything up, Sameen shoved Root's stuff into the bag and dragged it out rinkside to see what else was left behind. She found Root's mask, pads and gloves but not her skates. She surmised Root was still wearing them.

Well, someone would need to get Root's stuff to her, so Sameen decided to take care of the task herself. She pulled the heavy bag up onto her back and took it out to her pickup, then came back for her own equipment bag. When she emerged from the arena again, several of Martine's teammates were standing outside in the parking lot, and Sameen heard them laugh as she walked by.

She couldn't help thinking they looked like the bad guys in one of those old westerns. The stupid-looking cowboys who would stand around sniggering in front of the saloon, just before John Wayne or Gary Cooper wiped the floor with them.

She got into her truck and headed off to the hospital, not knowing what she'd do once she got there. Was Root OK? She didn't know. She just knew she couldn't get there fast enough.

She strode into the emergency room, looking around, and managed to find a nurse who directed her to a curtained off area. Root was awake, sitting on a bed with Gina in the chair next to it. They both smiled at Sameen.

"Uh, I just wanted to make sure you were OK," Sameen stammered. "I brought your stuff."

"Oh, thanks," replied Root. "They think I have a concussion."

Sameen shifted her weight nervously. "I think Martine has one too."

"So I heard."

"What about your knee?"

"It's fine. Maybe a little bit of a sprain but it's OK."

Sameen nodded and said nothing. Gina stood up, muttering something about a coffee, then walked out, leaving the two women in an uneasy silence.

"So, we won anyway," said Sameen, ending the standoff.

Root tilted her head to one side and gave Sameen an almost doting smile, without showing any teeth. For some reason this gesture made Sameen's knees feel a little wobbly.

She moved over to the chair and sat down.

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier. What I said before the game. I over-reacted."

Root smiled again. How did she do that, Sameen wondered. Anybody else who smiled that way, without showing their teeth, would look like a goblin. Sameen realized she was holding her breath, waiting for Root's reply.

"Don't give it another thought," she said. "I didn't mean to be rude or upset you, Sameen. I just wanted to get to know you a little better."

"Why?"

Root chuckled. "Uh, why not?"

"I'm not looking for a girlfriend right now."

"Well, that's direct."

"So is staring at someone who's in the fucking shower."

Root began to laugh at that, then stopped laughing because her head hurt. She put her hand up to her temple and frowned.

"Can't they give you something?"

"They said I can have some Tylenol when the doctor comes back. Here she is now."

Sameen looked up to see a blonde woman in a lab coat holding a clipboard.

"Hi Kelly," she said, addressing Root. "We don't think your concussion is a severe one, but we are concerned about the loss of consciousness. And also the fact that you had trouble remembering your name afterwards."

She looked at the clipboard and flipped through the pages, then looked back at Root.  
  
"We'd like to send you home, but only if someone can go with you and keep an eye on you overnight."

"I can do that," Sameen jumped in.

Root raised an eyebrow and sat up a little straighter in the bed, a tiny smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"OK, good," the doctor said, handing Sameen a card. "These are the symptoms you need to watch for. Bring her back here if you see any of these, OK?"

"Yes, I know," Sameen replied, pocketing the card without looking at it. "I have some medical training."

Root perked up even more.

"Oh, is that so?" the doctor smiled. "Well, it sounds like Ms. Dyson is in good hands then. My name is on the back of the card. Doctor Burke. Take care, Kelly."

She walked out and Root smiled at Sameen. "Well, aren't you full of surprises tonight."

"So are you," Sameen said, standing up. "What's this? Kelly? Your name is Kelly?"

Root just smiled.

"Did you bring my jeans? Could I have them please? I need socks too. They took my skates off but I don't know where they put them. Oh, there they are."

Sameen leaned over to pick up the skates, then handed Root her clothes just as a nurse came in with some Tylenol.

Root swallowed the pills and sat with her arms crossed, smiling at Sameen again, one eyebrow raised.

"You wanna watch me change? I don't mind."

Flustered, Sameen cleared her throat and backed out of the cubicle, pulling the curtain across.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root gets into the liquor cabinet. Sameen's a goner. 
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a 15-minute drive to Root's place but it passed mostly in silence. When they got there, Sameen grabbed Root's equipment bag from the back of the truck and brought it inside. She took a good look around, checking out the layout and the tasteful but sparse furnishings. It was a nice place but it didn't look very "lived in." Sameen realized her own apartment also did not look lived in. She stood awkwardly in the front hall, waiting for instructions.

"Oh, you can just put the bag on the floor there," Root said. "I'll take care of it later."

Sameen did so and removed her black Reeboks. Root had gone into the kitchen where she was taking some glasses out of the cupboard. There was a bottle of bourbon on the counter and Root was removing the cap.

"You shouldn't have alcohol with a concussion," Sameen said, walking into the kitchen and watching the preparations.

"Oh, I'm just having water," Root replied. "This is for you."

She handed Sameen the drink and leaned against the counter.

"You trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" Sameen asked, taking a long sip.

"Can't blame a girl for trying," Root smiled back, watching Sameen swallow.

Sameen savoured the taste of the bourbon as it burned the back of her throat, then set the glass on the counter, reached out for the cuff of Root's sleeve and pulled her closer. Her hands moved around Root's waist just as the taller woman's mouth sought hers and their lips met softly, then again and again, harder.

Sameen's hands were soon in Root's hair and her lips were moving across her jaw and down her neck. Root responded with a soft moan before pressing her body up against Sameen's, pushing her back against the counter. She quickly grabbed Sameen's wrists and forced them behind her back, holding them there as she pressed against her, moving her mouth to Sameen's earlobe and biting it.

"Where's the bedroom?" Sameen asked, when she was able to regain her speech.

"Mmmmm," replied Root. "You don't like the kitchen?"

"I want you lying down," Sameen said, grabbing Root's hips and swinging her body around so that Root was now pinned against the counter. Sameen slid one hand between Root's thighs and the other around her back and pressed her mouth into Root's throat, forcing her to arch her back.

"Do you want me lying on top of you or underneath you?" Root asked, her voice ragged, tendrils of her hair falling across Sameen's face as she bit and sucked Root's neck.

"We'll figure that out when we get there," Sameen growled, although she had a pretty good idea of how it would end up.

Root moved her hands under Sameen's hair, grasping the long strands and pulling firmly so that Sameen's head moved back. Then she pushed forward and nuzzled under Sameen's jaw, moving free of the counter.

She was pretty strong for such a slim woman, Sameen thought, as Root continued forcing her backwards. She finally pressed Sameen up against the fridge, pushed her head to one side and ran her tongue along her jawline in one fluid stroke.

Sameen felt her whole body shudder. She closed her eyes, drew in a breath, then followed Root down the darkened hallway to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it nice when you don't have to wait until the last chapter for something like this to happen.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, they're doing it.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I guess we figured it out then," Root purred into Sameen's ear. Root's voice was like some kind of trippy drug that was making something deep inside Sameen's body stir and react.

She was holding Sameen's wrists above her head and pushing them down into the pillow while her mouth moved around on Sameen's neck, kissing her as she pressed her long body down onto Sameen's supine form.

Sameen sighed and gasped under the weight of Root's body as she slowly ground into her. She could feel the soft, wavy tendrils of Root's long hair lightly touching her face, moving across her skin, driving her mad. Root's breasts were pressed against hers as she moved, the nipples hard, the muscles of Root's abdomen slamming into her again and again.

Their legs were entwined, Root's lower leg nestled against Sameen's foot, holding it down. Sameen moaned softly, her head thrown back as she struggled under her taller lover. She tried to pull her hands free but Root pushed them down harder.

"No, not yet Sameen," she whispered. "I'm not done."

Sameen began to pant, her chest heaving with the effort as she moved under Root's grinding hips. She was so fucking horny. She wanted to come but Root was making her wait. Whispering. Saying her name. Pressing down against her belly like that and biting her earlobes, her neck, her shoulders. Then, after a while, Root let go of Sameen's wrists and slid her hand down between her legs, moving her thumb to just above Sameen's clit, where she began slowly rubbing. She leaned over Sameen, looked into her eyes, let her hair fall down into Sameen's face again. Sameen writhed, twisting her neck, moving her head against the pillow as her back arched, her eyelids barely open.

Sameen moaned again, louder now as she gave in to the pleasure Root was bringing her, letting her arms drop down, flung out to the sides, her breath ragged and her eyes fluttering wildly as Root fucked her into oblivion.

She barely had her breath back when Root moved downward, kissing her breasts, her belly and yes, yes, lower still until her head was down in the place where Sameen was wet and wanting again.

Tangling her hands in that long, awesome hair, Sameen melted into Root's mouth, feeling her tongue work around inside her, caressing her and making her come again.

"Come here," Sameen said afterwards, pulling Root upwards so she could kiss her for a long time. She rolled over onto Root and wrapped her arms around her, feeling the long, lean muscles of her back, stroking her face and digging her thumbs into the cords of her neck. She kissed Root's jaw, her neck, under her hair, along her shoulder.

Root gasped as Sameen began moving on top of her, pushing the hardness of her thigh between Root's legs and letting Root settle there, then slowly rocking back and forth, listening to Root's ragged breath as it caught in her throat. Soon, Root was moving beneath her, pushing up against her thigh, her legs wrapped around Sameen's as she strained, both of them tangled in each other and the bedsheets as they fought for traction.

Root reached down and slid her fingers into Sameen's wetness as they continued moving together and then, softly, Root moaned, closing her eyes as she came. Sameen bent her head and brushed her lips against Root's open mouth, then pressed her own mouth harder against Root's while her body convulsed beneath her. Sameen covered Root's hand with her own and pushed it deeper inside herself, stroking harder and faster until the orgasm shuddered through her and she collapsed into Root's arms.

They lay there for a while quietly, Root stroking Sameen's hair. Then Root got up and left the room briefly, returning with the bourbon and Sameen's glass. She poured Sameen another two fingers of liquid and handed her the glass.

"You earned that," she smiled.

Sameen took it gratefully and knocked it back. "Thanks," she replied. " Lie down."

Root stretched out on her back while Sameen picked up her belt from the floor and used it to tie one of Root's wrists to the bedpost.

"Try the night stand," Root suggested helpfully, so Sameen pulled open the drawer to find several long leather straps inside. She quickly restrained Root on the bed by tying her other hand to the post on the other side and her feet to the posts at the bottom of the bed. Then she stood back and admired her handiwork, feeling a knot growing inside her as she watched Root's chest rise and fall with her breath.

Sameen took another belt of the bourbon straight out of the bottle. Then she crawled on top of Root and began kissing her all over her body. Root moaned. Sameen told her to shut up.

She threaded her hands into the long, thick mane of Root's hair and pulled, listening to the soft noises Root failed to stifle as Sameen's mouth slipped down her neck and moved to her breasts, kissing and sucking them, harder, harder until Root couldn't help crying out.

"Sameen... please. "

"Shhhhh. Don't... don't ... " Sameen covered Root's mouth with her own and kissed her slowly, keeping her jaw open, letting her tongue linger on Root's lips before moving it deeper to tangle with the tongue waiting for her.

She felt the body under hers tremble as they kissed, felt the sweat beading on Root's torso, and the long muscles of her legs tensing.

She slid her hands up Root's outstretched forearms and grabbed her wrists, then began moving up and down, letting her prone body weight drag across Root as she lay beneath her. She heard Root's breathing becoming more ragged and strained, and this in turn aroused Sameen, so she moved faster and harder, pressing against Root's core until she heard her moan and felt her body convulse. Sameen pressed her fingers inside herself and was able to come almost immediately. Then she lay there for a while with her head resting on Root's belly, listening to her breathing as it evened out again.

Sameen sat up and took another belt from the bottle. Then she held it over Root's outstretched body and poured some of the bourbon onto her breasts.

"You're going to stain my sheets," Root complained.

"Shhhhh. You're ruining the mood." Sameen replied, bending her head to lick the bourbon off Root's soft skin.

She poured more onto Root's belly and watched as it dripped over her sides, some of it settling in the concave area beneath her rib cage. Sameen's mouth dipped down again and she pressed her palms flat onto Root's abdomen as she lapped up the liquid.

Then, her tongue and lips burning, Sameen settled between Root's legs and began working on making her come one more time, like a four-alarm fire in an oil refinery.  


 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sameen makes a startling discovery.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The morning air was crisp as Sameen sat in Root's SUV, its engine running, and tried to warm her hands on her cup of black coffee. It hadn't been light for long and it was still quite chilly. Sameen had walked over to the arena to get Root's vehicle and drive it back home for her. It was only a 10 or 15-minute walk and Sameen figured it wouldn't take long.

She had wanted to do this as a surprise for Root, and also because she didn't want her trying to drive herself, because of the concussion.

Root had been sleeping when she left. Tired out, probably, after the night they'd had. Sameen smiled to herself, remembering their long, slow kisses and the feeling of Root under her and over her, the intoxicating scent and the taste of her, writhing as Sameen's mouth meandered over her body...

She shook her head to bring herself back down to earth. It wasn't like her to get all gaga over a woman. Like she'd told Root, she wasn't looking for a girlfriend. She liked her life the way it was. Someone like Root would just come in and disrupt everything and make it all a big mess.

Sameen huffed. There was still ice on the windshield and the back and side windows as well. It had snowed overnight and the heat in the SUV didn't seem to be melting anything. She'd have to brush the snow off and scrape the windows.

She turned and looked on the floor in the back seat area for a brush or a scraper but there was nothing there. In fact the SUV looked immaculate, like it was brand new. Maybe it was a lease. In any case, there should be a scraper somewhere. She could use her gloves to brush the snow off but she'd need a proper scraper for the ice.

She looked between the front seats, looked underneath them, in the pockets on the driver's door, behind the visor. Nothing. She reached over and opened the glove box. A pile of cards and documents came sliding out and she managed to catch them before they fell on the floor.

Sameen straightened up the papers and started to put them back in the compartment, but then she froze, staring at the documents.

There must have been a dozen of them. Driver's licences, insurance and lease papers, various identification. Each one had a different name and several of them had different pictures of Root. Sometimes she was wearing glasses and sometimes her hair was different. In one picture she was blonde and in another, her hair was long, straight and auburn.

Sameen sat still for a moment, in shock. Her mind and her heart were both racing and she could almost feel her pulse pounding. She got out of the SUV and paced back and forth for several minutes. Then she did the best job she could of cleaning off the snow and ice, jumped back into the SUV and drove to Root's place.

When she walked in, Root was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of her and her laptop open.

Sameen threw the pile of papers and documents onto the table.

"What the hell are these?" she demanded.

Root straightened and drew a breath but her expression was neutral.

"Those are for my work."

"What kind of work is that?" Sameen asked.

"I'm sorry Sameen, but that's none of your business."

"What? It's none of my..." Sameen stammered. She gestured toward the ID lying on the table. "Caroline Turing, Karen Iverson, Alice Ginsburg ... how many names do you have?"

Root didn't answer, continuing to hold Sameen's gaze.

"Where did you get these?" Sameen pressed. "These are professional grade forgeries."

Root smiled almost imperceptibly. "How would you know that, I wonder."

For a split second, Sameen saw a brief flicker of something in Root's eyes. Something that betrayed an extreme sharpness of intellect. Then it was gone.

Root rose from her chair and Sameen took a step back, her hackles raised.

"What is this? Who the hell are you?" she asked.

Root just stared at her, frowning. "I know this doesn't look good," she said, taking a step forward.

Sameen moved back again.

"You fucking lied to me. I don't ever want to see your face again," she said, pointing her finger at Root.

She realized she had started to crouch as she said this, like an animal going into defensive mode, her knees slightly bent. She felt this was not a good physical posture since it made her even shorter and Root taller. Damn. She instinctively shoved her hand into her jacket pocket where she kept her Beretta. It wasn't there.

Root's eyes flickered to where Sameen's gun hand rested inside her jacket. Then she looked up again and their eyes locked. She knew.

Sameen noticed Root's left hand was almost casually tucked into her hip pocket but her right hand was behind her back. Neither woman moved for several seconds.

Then Sameen turned, and fled.

"Sameen! Sameen, wait! Root's voice followed her as she made the street. She didn't turn around.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sameen is going to a dark place.

* * *

 

Root didn't try to follow her and she didn't try to contact her either. Sameen was not happy that she'd been forced to turn tail, but she knew it was the best option given the circumstances.

During those few seconds in Root's kitchen, she had considered going hand-to-hand with her, but it was too risky. She had to assume Root had a gun, although she'd never know for sure if that was the case. Even if Root was unarmed, Sameen knew she was very quick and much stronger than she looked. Whether she could fight or not was another question. But if there was one thing she'd learned about Root thus far, it was not to underestimate her.

Sameen got in touch with one of her contacts and asked him to find out whatever he could about all of Root's aliases. Then she went back to her own place for a shower and something to eat. About an hour later, while she was stuffing the remnants of a sandwich into her mouth, Sameen got a call from her contact. The background checks had turned up absolutely nothing. Apparently Root was just as good at covering her tracks as she was at tending goal. It seemed there was no end to her talents.

Sameen grimaced and went to her gun cabinet. She was pissed about losing her Beretta but she had other weapons. She selected a Glock and a proper shoulder holster to wear under her jacket, although she hoped the gun wouldn't be necessary.

How Root had managed to swipe her pistol without her knowing was a mystery. But Sameen realized she'd let her guard down significantly with Root. She gritted her teeth when she thought about the previous night. She partially blamed the bourbon but she also blamed those brown eyes. The thought that Root had played her was like a hard punch in the gut as well as a blow to her ego.

In any case, she needed to know what the woman was up to. Later that evening, after it got dark, she threw some things in a duffel bag and headed over to Root's place, parking her truck a few blocks away. She used her climbing ropes to scale the wall and got onto the balcony easily, finding herself outside the sliding door. She looked inside, but couldn't see much since all the lights were off.

Good, Sameen thought. She's not home. That would give her a chance to look around the place, maybe find something that would give her some clues about what Root's game was. Sameen picked the lock and slid the door open, moving quietly into the living room. She soon realized that not only was Root not at home, but she wasn't likely to be returning. The place had been cleaned out. No furniture, no electronics, no clothes. Nothing in the kitchen. Nothing in the fridge. Even the half-empty bottle of bourbon was gone.

Stunned, Sameen leaned against the wall and ran a hand through her hair. How could she have missed it? Root was an operative. She had to be. Nobody can leave a place -- without a trace -- so quickly. There'd obviously been a clean-up crew in here within the last few hours. And who knows where Root had disappeared to.

A knot was forming in Sameen's stomach, and it wasn't just because she'd lost her chance to find out what kind of operation she'd been mixed up with. She had told Root she never wanted to see her again. But that was a lie.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone from Sameen's past is about to reappear...

* * *

 

For the next several days, Sameen was quite busy with work but she also made sure to blow off some steam at the gym. She liked working out when she felt stressed. She didn't feel stressed that often but the weekend's events had thrown her off her game and she couldn't have that in her profession. So it was shoulder presses, pullups, curls and crunches until she felt good and solid again.

The next day she went for a 10-mile run. That felt pretty good until about six miles in, when she found herself thinking about Root. Damn her. Sameen didn't like feeling out of control and for some reason, she'd let it happen.

She'd tried to do a little bit of investigating on her own, but had turned up nothing. It really was like Root had disappeared into thin air. Maybe that was a good thing.

There was a hockey game on Saturday night and Sameen tried to casually ask some of the other players about the pickup goalie, but no one had seen or heard from Root. Sameen dropped it.

After the game, she took an extra long shower and was one of the last players to finish dressing and leave. It was quite dark when she made her way across the parking lot to her pickup. That's when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her.

"Nice evening for a walk." She turned around to see Martine and two of her friends, looking rather surly.

"If you say so," she answered.

"I think I owe you a punch in the head." Martine spat, looking like she'd been sucking on the world's biggest lemon.

"Really? I'd say we're even," replied Sameen, turning around again to head over to her truck.

Martine moved in front of Sameen to block her way, leaving her two pals to circle behind her. Sameen stopped.

"You think you're something special, don't you bitch?" Martine snarled. "Someone needs to take you down a notch or two."

She pulled out a switchblade and flicked it open. Sameen's fists clenched.

"We don't need Pakis around here," one of Martine's flunkies said, grabbing Sameen's arms and pulling them behind her back.

"I'm not from Pakistan, you idiot. I'm Persian," Sameen replied, as the other goon grabbed her by the jacket.

"They both start with the same letter," said the tall one. "P."

"I know a better word for what you are," Martine sneered, nodding at her goons. "How about psycho? That starts with a P too."

"No it doesn't," said the moron behind Sameen. "It starts with an S."

"Shut up," ordered Martine, becoming irritated. She turned back to Sameen and waved the knife in her face. "First I'm going to punch your head in and then I'm going to mess up your pretty face, with a P or an S or maybe just a big fucking X."

She took a step forward, her face twisted into a nasty scowl. Sameen felt her arms being gripped tighter, a knee in her back.

Suddenly, there was a loud sound. "Whack!" Sameen almost laughed out loud because it actually sounded like someone saying the word "whack" really loud.

Martine went down in a heap and there, standing right behind her, was Root, her goalie stick high on the follow-through, as though she'd just finished taking a tee shot on the back nine.

Sameen quickly flipped one of the goons over her shoulder and booted the other one hard. They both scrambled away, leaving Martine on the ground. Root flipped her stick over in her hands and jammed the knob end into Martine's solar plexus.

"And R is for racist and A is for asshole," Root said, as Martine wheezed and gasped for air. "Thanks for visiting Sesame Street."

Sameen picked up the switchblade and folded it safely.

"Where did you get this piece of crap, the dollar store?"

She leaned over Martine, who was still trying to breathe. "Settle down, you'll be OK in a few minutes."

She picked up her bag and started walking to her truck, Root a step behind.

"Would you mind telling me how you happened to be here, with that thing?" Sameen asked, gesturing towards the stick in Root's hands.

"I had to come back and get it, it got left behind last week," Root replied. "Someone forgot to bring it to the hospital for me."

"You really expect me to believe you came all the way back here just for a hockey stick?

"It's a goalie stick. They're expensive."

Sameen said nothing as she threw her hockey bag into her truck.

"Aren't you going to thank me for saving your ass?" Root prodded her.

"I had it under control," Sameen replied, her mouth a tight line.

"Could have fooled me."

"Like you fooled me?" Sameen turned and faced Root angrily.

Root paused and took a breath. "I never lied to you."

"You told me your name was Root."

"Hmm, I said you could _call_ me Root."

Sameen huffed. "So we're splitting hairs now. You're not lying but you're not being completely truthful either. Root is not even a name."

"It's who I am."

"Oh for God's sake," said Sameen, grabbing Root by the lapels of her leather jacket and opening the passenger side door of the truck. "Get in. It's time we had a little talk."

Root pushed her goalie stick into the back seat and obediently climbed into the truck. Sameen slammed the door, then walked around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. Root smiled sweetly at her.

"Thanks for the lift," she said in a perky manner that did not suit the situation. "I lost my SUV. Long story."

Sameen turned quickly, grasped the front of Root's jacket and shoved her back into the seat, her Glock pressed hard under her jaw.

"I don't give a shit," Sameen hissed, her face about two inches from Root's. "You owe me an explanation. And don't tell me it's none of my business."

"OK," Root said quietly. "Let's get out of here first. Then I'll explain everything. Just take that thing away from my throat. It's making me nervous."

Sameen let go of Root and pulled out of the parking lot. She drove for about 15 minutes in silence, heading towards the outskirts of the city. Root started to glance around at the landscape, a look of concern on her face.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

"Somewhere quiet," Sameen replied. "I know the perfect place."

The truck pulled off the freeway and began heading towards an industrial park with several warehouses.

Suddenly, Root turned in her seat and grabbed the steering wheel, wrenching it sharply to the left. Sameen jammed her foot on the brake and tried to regain the wheel but it was too late. The truck veered left, hit the median and rolled, finally coming to rest on its side.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sameen wants to get to the truth, but that means a showdown with Root.

* * *

 

Climbing out of the crashed pickup, Sameen looked around for Root, scanning the front of the nearest warehouse. She heard a loud bang and realized that one of the side doors had just closed. Sameen began running toward it, a difficult task since she'd injured her leg in the crash. She cursed at the pain but continued limping to the door, pausing briefly to listen for any sounds inside. Then, holding her gun at the ready, she pulled open the door and carefully entered the warehouse.

It was quiet and dark inside. Sameen took a few steps in, moving slowly, listening and letting her eyes adjust. She could make out the alarm system just to the left of the door. It looked like Root had already disabled it.

There were tall stacks of skids lined up from one end of the cavernous building to the other. Sameen stepped behind one and waited. She counted to 10. Then she called out.

"Root? I'm going to turn the lights on."

Two gunshots rang out in reply, hitting the wall behind Sameen. She swore again.

"What are you shooting at? I thought we were going to talk."

"I'm not a big fan of talking at gunpoint, Sameen."

"Neither am I. Drop your weapon."

"Seems that would leave me at a distinct disadvantage."

"Don't make me shoot you."

Several seconds ticked by in silence. Sameen took a breath, squared her body in the direction Root's voice had come from and squeezed off three shots. She heard the bullets ricochet and Root cry out in pain. Sameen winced at the sound, feeling a twinge deep in her chest.

She waited. She could hear Root's laboured breathing now. She was about 20 feet away, behind the next stack.

"Root?"

"You winged me, Sameen. Shit!"

"Stop shooting and drop your gun."

"Oh my God, this is just like that movie _Duel in the Sun_ with Gregory Peck. Remember? His lover shoots him and then he shoots her, and then she crawls over to him and they kiss, and then they both die. It's so romantic."

"If you think I'm crawling across the hot Texas desert so I can die in your arms, you are fucking batshit."

Root didn't reply. Sameen moved over to the wall, found the light switch and flicked it on. She quickly took cover behind the stack again, then looked around the side to see where Root was.

"Root? Are you OK?"

"Damn, you got me good. Right in the shoulder."

"Drop your gun. You're hurt. Let me bandage your arm."

There was silence for a few seconds, then Sameen heard Root put her gun down on the floor. Sameen told her to kick the gun over to her and come out with her hands up. Root obeyed, emerging from behind the stack, her jacket half pulled off, an ugly patch of blood spreading from a spot on her left shoulder.

"It kind of hurts holding my hands up like this."

Sameen took hold of Root and started leading her to an office in the corner of the building, slipping an arm around her waist to support her.

"Why'd you run?" Sameen asked, helping Root down into a chair.

Root's reply came with no smile. "Why did you?"

Sameen realized Root was talking about the standoff in her kitchen. She didn't answer, just pulled the first aid kit off its hook on the wall and began checking Root's wound. It looked like the bullet had grazed her but it had taken a fair bit of flesh with it.

When she was done dressing the wound, Sameen tied Root's hands behind her and then used some plastic bindings to tie her to the chair.

"This is some gratitude," Root said, watching her work. "That's too tight on my shoulder."

Sameen loosened the bindings and slipped them down so they were around Root's waist instead of her shoulders.

"How's that?"

"Better, thanks."

"How long have you been watching me."

"A few weeks."

"Why."

"It's my job."

"Who are you working for."

"I can't tell you. You know I can't."

Sameen pulled out her gun and shoved it under Root's jaw, forcing her head back against the chair.

"Tell me who you're working for."

Root took in a sharp breath. "You know, earlier that gun made me nervous but now it's kind of turning me on."

Sameen sighed and stood up, shoving her gun into the back waistband of her jeans. Then she turned and backhanded Root across the face.

The blow sent Root over to her side, where she slumped, gasping, her head hanging down.

"How about that," asked Sameen. "Did that turn you on?"

Root took a few seconds to spit the blood out of her mouth, then turned her head back toward Sameen.

"Absolutely."

Sameen pulled Root back up straight in the chair again and swept her hair out of her face. Her mouth was bleeding.

"Do you think I enjoy hurting you?"

Root smiled back. "God, I hope so."

Sameen reached for her gun again and got on one knee in front of Root, looking steadily into her eyes. Root looked a little groggy now, her pupils beginning to swim, her breathing hard, her head leaned back on the chair.

"I don't think you realize how much trouble you are in right now," Sameen told her.

"Please, tell me," Root smiled, her eyelids starting to close.

Sameen shook her roughly. "Stop fucking around."

Root's eyes opened wide again and locked with Sameen's. The smile was gone now. Sameen leaned in closer.

"You were sent to kill me."

"Yes."

"But I'm not dead."

"I guess I'm not getting paid then."

Sameen pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and gently wiped the blood from Root's mouth.

"You don't strike me as someone who's bad at her job. When did you decide not to do it?"

Root paused, her eyes still fixed on Sameen's. "When you kissed me."

Sameen looked down at the blood on the handkerchief, then looked up into the soft brown eyes in front of her. "You've never had a mark try to kiss you before?"

Root's voice was barely a whisper. "Not like that."

Sameen leaned forward, her eyes half-closed, and met Root's mouth with her own. Their kiss was soft and tender and lasted longer than Sameen meant it to and when they finished, Root rested her forehead gently against Sameen's.

"Let me go."

"I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No. No I can't. I'm sorry."

"So am I."

Sameen heard a clicking noise and felt a sharp jab in her side, then a current suddenly, painfully coursing through her. Her muscles seized, turned hard as rock and then turned to jelly as she fell to the floor, paralyzed.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root gains the upper hand. She's not going to let Sameen forget it. Or her.

* * *

 

It was quite a while before Sameen could speak again. Quite a while before she could even move. She had to sit there in that chair while Root zip-tied her arms and her ankles, talking the whole while, explaining how she'd managed to hide the Taser, first in her jacket, then in her jeans and then in the chair.

Then she explained how she'd slipped the bonds on her hands, how easy it was to find industrial scissors in the office that could cut the plastic ties, not that she'd leave any such implements lying around now... and on and on and on, like she was giving a tutorial.

Talk about torture. Sameen gritted her teeth.

"You had that Taser the whole time. Why didn't you use it?" she asked when she finally gained control of her tongue.

"We were having so much fun. I didn't want to spoil it," Root replied. "Oh my God, that slap. That was so hot."

"When I get out of this chair..."

"God Sameen, you are so sexy when you're angry," Root smiled, leaning back against the desk and folding her arms in front of her.

"You know, I read your file," she continued. "You don't fully register emotions except for two. Anger and frustration. Those are your hot buttons. All I have to do is push them. Or not."

Sameen glared at her, fuming.

"You have another button too."

"I fucking hate you."

Root tilted her head and smiled, no teeth.

"No you don't. You've just never felt this before. Anyway, like the song says, it's a thin line."

She bent down and lifted the bottom edge of Sameen's jeans, removing a knife from its strap around her ankle.

"Hhhm, this could be dangerous. I'll just leave it in this filing cabinet here."

She dropped it into the drawer with a metallic clank, then turned and faced Sameen.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," she said. "Time for me to go to ground, like a good Root. I'd suggest you do the same."

She turned and grabbed some keys from a hook on the wall.

"I'm taking one of the fleet vehicles from the back. There's a whole rack of keys here. Look, they even put the numbers of the vehicles on each key. So helpful."

Sameen said nothing as Root pulled her jacket on, wincing as she slid it over her injured shoulder. Oh, fuck. She was still talking.

"You can have your Glock back. I'm going to leave it in one of the skids over there. It'll take you a while to find it but I need the extra time to get away. Don't want you coming after me and shooting me again."

Sameen just stared at her, wishing she could grab her and throttle her, or kiss her. She wasn't sure which would make her feel better.

"By the way, I'm keeping the Beretta. I kind of like the way it feels in my hands. It reminds me of you."

Root went to the office door and opened it, then turned back.

"I hope we'll run into each other again some day. Maybe in that desert in Texas."

And with that, she was gone.

 


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two months later...

* * *

  
Sameen took Root's advice and went to ground immediately, leaving her life in one city and slipping into a new one elsewhere. She wasn't sure who Root had been working for, but she expected they'd send another assassin for her eventually. Whatever the situation was, she'd be ready and she'd deal with it her own way. Just like she always did.

As for Root, Sameen tried to track her down, using her contacts and her own investigative methods but she had no luck at all. She figured she'd never hear from her again, but she was wrong.

She was working her new cover job at a security firm when a delivery came for her one morning. She signed for the rectangular package and checked the return address but she didn't recognize the sender's name.

As soon as she opened the box, she knew Root had sent it. It was a bottle of bourbon. Top shelf. She opened the note inside.

"I just realized how rude I'd been taking something to remember you by, but leaving nothing to remind you of me. I hope this brings back some pleasant memories. Try to make it last."

Then she had marked a bunch of X's that were supposed to signify kisses, and signed it with the letter R.

Sameen laughed in spite of herself. She decided not to drink any of it until she found Root again. Maybe. Someday.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally intended this fic to be three or four chapters and I ended up with 11! 
> 
> All I can tell you is when I write a story I know how it begins and how it ends. The rest is just filling in the middle and letting the story take me where it wants to go. So I let it flow that way. Having characters that already exist makes it easy to write because you know how they will act (most of the time.) The hardest chapter to write was Chapter 5 (the sex scene) because it just takes so much work to get it right. 
> 
> Of course having two central characters that I love so much makes it a lot of fun to write. It's fun writing Martine too because I hate her and I can make lots of bad stuff happen to her. Heh heh. 
> 
> I felt like I really needed to write something about Root and Shaw because I was really, really upset about Root's death and I was depressed when the show ended. (In case you haven't noticed, I'm in love with Root.)
> 
> I'm going to take a break now. I may write another fic later. I have some ideas.
> 
> Thanks for reading this. -ZT


End file.
